Downside of Aging Potions - Chapter Fourteen
"But now the sun shines cold
And all the sky is grey
The stars are dimmed by clouds and tears
And all I wish is gone away."
-The Cure, To Wish Impossible Things
It was a long night. Pacing and waiting for any news on Filch.
'This is entirely my fault. Why did I have to get Filch involved? I should've just went along with it and kicked Malfoy's ass. Now Filch is retarded with no cure. Maybe. But still...' Snape thought to himself as he waited in the Hospital Wing outside the curtain in which Filch was healing in.
"Hey." A soft voice said hesitantly at the doorframe.
Snape looked over to see Hermione chewing her lip. He nodded to greet her and looked away.
She walked over and asked quietly, "How is he?"
"Retarded," Snape said bitterly, "Literally."
Hermione winced and racked her brain for something to say, anything to say. But exactly what he wanted to hear, she didn't know.
"It's not your fault." She settled on that, but instantly regretted saying it when he made a sarcastic sound.
"I know you're trying to help me feel better, Granger, but it is not working." He said, reclining in the chair as much as it allowed.
"What do you want me to say," Hermione snapped, "That it was your fault and that you're stupid for trying to teach a kid a lesson?"
"No," He began testily, "I want you to say nothing. I just want you to shut the hell up and leave me the hell alone!" What had started as a forced-calm voice quickly escalated to a near shout.
Hermione looked as if she'd been slapped in the face. Even worse, she felt like she'd been slapped in the face.
"Fine." Hermione said, taking a step backward, "Fine." She said again, leaving the Hospital Wing.
When she was gone, Snape put his head in his hands miserably. What had he done?
!
In her recently fixed Headgirl room, Hermione sat on her bed, holding back tears. Her cat sat with her, against her leg for comfort. The pillow in her arms was in a death grip and she rocked slightly. Trying not to think.
Don't think. Not about what he said.
Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat and stood abruptly, the pillow still clenched in her left hand. She had to walk, had to get the painful words out of her head.
That's it. She hadn't heard them. No.
Besides, what did it matter? She shouldn't care. Couldn't. And, what? No one's ever told her to 'shut up' before?
She turned her sadness to anger.
'So what?' She thought, tossing the pillow onto her bed and taking a deep breath to calm herself.
'Big deal. Just play it cool. Don't see him until he apologizes. You're a woman, kind of. Just handle it like a woman.' Satisfied and assured, Hermione sat back on her bed and pet Crookshanks until he trotted off.
Hermione laid back and sighed before smiling coolly.
Why should she cry over him? There wasn't. He was just her professor, right?
Keep it cool.
!
Why had he said those words? He asked himself again.
It had been four days since the 'incident'. Delicately put. Snape thought irritably.
On a brighter note, Filch was nearly cured, but he would never fully recover from the spell Malfoy cast on him. And the blonde-haired boy was in Detention for two months.
But on a darker note, Hermione was avoiding him and because Hermione was pissed at him, his owl stopped sending his letters for him. Apparently, Hermione was 'shutting up and minding her own business.' He didn't recall telling to mind her own business, but he figured she was being stubborn.
He wouldn't give in. Absolutely not. He knew the female species well enough to know just exactly what she was doing.
Although... he did need to make some progress. He was falling behind on his potions. Thinking about her, thinking about what he said...
Damn females.
!